My first visit to Cornell was a thoroughly annoying experience. However, given that it was a sunny August day, and I was very impressed with the grace of its architecture, it began well enough.

Unfortunately, as I walked into Day Hall for a tour, things began to crumble relatively swiftly. As our miniscule tour group (consisting of a four individuals, including my father and myself) gathered, the bouncy fellow beside me attempted to win my friendship. His first question to me torpedoed his objective in an instant: “So are you, like, a grad student?” I gave him a withering look. While I may dress like I was born in 1953, I’d like to think that I have yet to begin exuding the world-weariness which might accompany a graduate degree.

As we moved out, the fellow continued to dig himself deeper: “So why are you wearing a tie anyway?” Rather than explain to him my fondness for Windsor knots, I merely allowed my scowl to deepen. If the fellow had two brain cells to rub together, he might have subsided. Sadly, the merry fellow seemed to take my annoyed glowering as a mute request for him to continue. He continued to pepper me with idiotic and tactless questions, which I uniformly ignored.

Things continued to worsen. Our charming tour guide, oblivious to my mounting irritation prattled on and on. As he sought to justify why the University actually funded the monstrosity that is Uris Hall, the sun continued to rise in the sky. I knew it would be warm out and had tried to be cautious; I was wearing a spring sweater-vest, to mollify both my sensibilities as well as the weather gods.

My efforts were to no avail. As our tour guide spouted on and on, I began busily sweltering under my vest, darkly hoping that heatstroke would get to the twit at my side before it got me. (Alas, there was little chance of that; his attire consisted of shorts and a t-shirt, rather than a vest, tie and oxford.)

Luckily, I survived both the sun and the simpleton, but ultimately did not embark for Cornell in the fall. Instead, I attended a different institution for my first year — a lovely campus, though hardly more suited to sweater-vests than Ithaca in August.

My previous institution was a charming school and its students a vibrant and dynamic group; the decision to transfer to Cornell was neither easy nor clear-cut. Still, I look back on the decision without a drop of regret.

I have only had three years at Cornell, but they have been wonderful, enriching and fulfilling. And it seems all too brief — gone in a flash of argyle, tea and endless meetings. The difficult hearings, the spirited sessions, the contentious cases, and, of course, writing this column for The Sun, are now fast becoming fond memories — the hard edges smoothed by nostalgia.

In truth, I am a bit afraid to leave a place where I have become so comfortable. I came, I saw and was smitten by this incredible University.

But beyond the horizon of West Campus, the future beckons. Cornell has prepared us well for the journey ahead. Our beloved institution has inculcated in us a commitment to intellectual excellence, integrity, tolerance and diversity. Those of us who are about to graduate, each in one’s own unique way, embody Cornell’s motto: “Any person … Any study.” And, perhaps, just as importantly, the networks of friends, peers and mentors forged at Cornell will sustain us for years to come.

As for me, I hope I have left in my wake more than simply an orphaned table sprinkled with croissant flakes in Libe Cafe to mark where I once was. I am comforted, however, by a wonderful line in Tennyson’s poem, “Ulysses”: “I am part of all that I have met.”

I’ve always detested both the emotional goodbye and the hopelessly inadequate thank you. Still, I’d like to thank those who have had a profound influence on me during my years at Cornell:

To Ezra Cornell and A.D. White for their vision and ambition which animates and drives our dear University;

To Willard Straight ’01 and Romeyn Berry ’01 for instilling the spirit of tradition in all Cornellians;

To all my colleagues at PRB, RSC, AIHB and the Muse for teaching me, by your example, the meaning of dedication and hard work;

To my editors, David Wittenberg ’09 and Sammy Perlmutter ’10 for coaxing me to write a column for The Sun;

To Daniel Wasser ’08 for constantly prodding me with his scintillating intellect and constantly forgiving my tardy e-mails;

To Angelica Gregory ’08 for her selfless kindness, and invariably wise advice and guidance;

And, finally, to those who silently and humbly work every day to uplift Cornell — though your praises may be unsung, it is to you that all Cornellians owe a special debt of gratitude.

I am sure each of my fellow graduating seniors can suggest their own special list of individuals who shaped their lives at Cornell. Ultimately, the richness of Cornell’s endowment is not measured by dollars and cents but by its people.

It is my turn, I suppose, to fade away across the Arts Quad and depart for new and different shores. Cornell has given me a trusty compass and pleasant memories to accompany me in the unchartered waters of law school. We are now released, all of us, with both the freedom and responsibility to carry out our founders’ vision in the wider world, even after we have bid Cornell itself farewell.